


May You Bury Me

by Etheostoma



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I couldn't help myself, Reconciliation of their relationship, Season 3 Spoilers, Set just after Jim's transformation, Smut, Stricklake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etheostoma/pseuds/Etheostoma
Summary: He worried for the children, but he was terrified for Barbara. She had come to be his everything, the center of his universe, the bright sun about which his lonely existence would orbit. But that was the crux of the matter—physical harm to herself was not the cause of Barbra’s fear, but rather the potential horrors her son faced. And so, Walter worried with her.Spoilers for Season 3, so read at your discretion.





	May You Bury Me

**Author's Note:**

> Ya’arburnee (Arabic)  
> Literal translation: May you bury me
> 
> No English equivalent, but serves as the hopeful declaration that one will die before someone they love deeply, because they cannot stand to live without them.

“Are they going to be okay?” Barbara asked. She pressed a clenched fist against the window as she watched her son—changed and fiercer and stronger, but still her Jim—leave with his friends to train. Though her tone was steady, she was visibly overwhelmed by worry for him, and when she finally released the tension in her fist, arm dropping to her side as she retreated from the window frame, her eyes held every desperate emotion she could not bring herself to display through action.

“I—” Walter wanted nothing more than to assure her that they would definitely succeed in their desperate mission, that Merlin would kill Morgana and Jim in his new form would be able to vanquish Gunmar, and all that followed would be well—but, he could make no such promises, and he would not do her the injustice of such obvious false platitudes.  “I don’t know,” he confessed, voice soft and eyes heavy with the weight of every one of his many centuries. Very rarely did he feel the full burden of his age, but here, now, at the very likely end of all things, he suffered his wisdom and experience and failures like the constricting chains that they truly were.

They suffocated him, twining around his figure in an interlocking weave, phantoms of mistakes long past nipping at his heels and snaking up his calves, binding him in place and locking him into a silent stupor. How long had he fought for the very being that now threatened everything he held dear? How many had he hurt, killed, cast aside in the name of the Changeling ideal? It seemed to trivial now, so foolish and simple and _ignorant_ of him—faced with his imminent demise, he could only find the wherewithal to match the worry Barbara expressed—worry for Jim, worry for the children who had dumped tradition on its head and now fought to protect their elders.

He worried for the children, but he was _terrified_ for Barbara. She had come to be his everything, the center of his universe, the bright sun about which his lonely existence would orbit. Should something happen… But, that was the crux of the matter—physical harm to herself was not the cause of Barbra’s fear, but rather the potential horrors her son faced. And so, Walter worried with her, torn between his own personal attachment to young Jim Lake and the overwhelmingly fierce love and adoration and abject _terror_ rolling off of Barbara in waves as she watched her young hero stride away.

Crossing the distance between them in three definitive paces Walter gathered her into his arms, closing his eyes and pressing his nose into her fiery hair. Breathing in deep, measured breaths he lost himself in the floral scent of her shampoo and tried to convey all the words that suddenly eluded him through the strength of his embrace.

 _It will be alright_ , he aspired to say, his hands stroking her sides in measured lengths, soothing and comforting as best he could. _Somehow,_ some way _, it will be alright._ The words never came to his tongue, but he thought them as fiercely as he could, eyes squeezed shut as he held her tightly against himself.

The absolute _understanding_ Walter conveyed through his demeanor rocked Barbara to her core, the support and affection offered by this strange and terrible and wonderful man the unlikely catalyst needed to shatter her well-honed control. Barbara’s breath hitched and she shuddered in his arms, breath rasping in her lungs.

Walter could feel the altered cadence of her breaths against his chest, a shaky, silent inhale-exhale pattern staggered just enough to make her loss of control noticeable. Brow furrowing, he stepped back half a pace, tipping her tear-stained face up with one long finger. “Now,” he chided gently, hand twisting to cup her jaw in his palm, its counterpart curling around her shoulder in a gentle hold. “None of that. There is a very real chance that everything will turn out perfectly fine.” His thumb moved of its own accord to brush a drop of moisture from her cheek, smoothing away the damp trail with a gentle caress. Some far-removed part of his mind marveled at the softness of her skin against his calloused hand, a sharp contrast even in this vulnerable human form. The marked difference between them had never so prominent in his mind as in this moment, here in her house as her son has sacrificed his humanity for the world and they all stood on the edge of the world, staring down into a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow every living reality. 

Barbara was kind where he was cruel, strong where he was weak, soft and willowy to Walter’s stony skin and cold heart. She had the greatest capacity for love and forgiveness that head had ever known, her spirit a brilliant flame amongst the rest of humanity’s burning embers. He still marveled that she had ever come to accept him in the first place, let alone allow him back into her life a second time. 

His head tilted down, the moonlight accentuating the deep shadows under his eyes, born of the stress and fear and uncertainty of current times. “Barbara,” he breathed, green eyes glinting with unshed moisture of their own. With a gentleness he would have never dreamed he possessed, he pressed his lips against hers, the barest brush of skin against skin. His right hand remained along her jawline, thumb tracing sweeping patterns across her cheek in a shivery circuit, and his left moved to cradle the back of her head, fingers burying themselves in the fine strands of hair at the base of her neck.

It was the tenderest of moments, an unassuming embrace that asked for nothing, only gave. Barbara sighed into his mouth, lips parting slightly as she responded to his kiss, hands rising to grasp the lapels of his jacket. “I’ve missed this,” she murmured softly, drawing her head back slightly to look up at him with wide blue eyes. Her fingers smoothed the fabric they held, ironing out imaginary creases as she worried the material between her fingertips.

His hands rose to grip both of hers, thumbs tracing her knuckles as he returned her gaze with equal fervor. “As have I,” he admitted, leaning in once more to brush a gentle kiss against her cheek. He had never dreamed that Barbara might even remember him, let along consent to hold him once again. And now, finally, they were back to such a state of regard and affection that had preceded Angor Rot’s attack—and this time, all of the cards were already on the table.

Rising to her tiptoes, Barbara slid her hands out of Walter’s grip and grabbed his face, drawing him down to her level to meet him in another kiss. Where the first had been full of compassion this one was pure desire, raw and blistering and _consuming ._ She wanted to _feel,_ to give and take and _be_ taken in this instance where all other feeling was eclipsed by numb terror and worry.  

A heady fire flared in her heart and raced through her veins, consuming her from the inside-out and setting her skin ablaze. Taking first one, then another step forward, she steered Walter back against the wall of the foyer, her mouth never leaving his. He hit with a solid _thunk_ , back and shoulders pressed firmly against the base of the stairwell. Barbara plastered herself against him, one hand against his chest while the other palmed his jaw. She took advantage of his startled gasp and slipped her tongue into his mouth, seeking and claiming familiar territory as she took everything he offered, encouraging him to forgo his typical reservations and let go.

He did not need much encouragement.

With a low growl, Walter gripped her shoulders and spun them around, seizing control of the moment and pressing Barbara back against the wall, caging her between his arms as he launched a fierce assault on her mouth. He nipped at her lips, coaxing them open, before diving in to taste her, mapping out a path he had never dreamed to follow again. To have her in his arms once more was surreal, the heady press of her supple figure against his a fleeting grasp of paradise. He had never dreamed he would ever deserve any kind of heaven, but he imagined that this reality, with Barbara Lake in his arms and knowing him— _all_ of him—was as close to a happy ending as he could conceive. 

It did not matter that tomorrow could bring the end of all, that they teetered on the cusp of absolute destruction and complete and utter uncertainty. It did not matter that his grip on humanity was as fleeting as the daylight, a single, delicate thread that would be severed the instant his familiar left the Dark Lands.

It was simply Walter and Barbara, here, now, finally reunited in purpose and affection.

Walter traced a thumb along her collarbone, his mouth sliding down to trail a series of kisses along her jawline and down to her neck, teeth nipping and tongue laving as he carved a path along the smooth column of her throat. “I should go,” he murmured against her skin, the rough tremor of his voice and his evident distraction and desire sending a new wave of want coursing through her.

She shuddered and traced the tendons of the hand and wrist still pressed against the wall, body and eyes overcome with desire. “ _Stay,”_ she pleaded, clasping his head between her hands and forcing him to meet her blazing blue eyes. The resolution and arousal and love he found there was kin to that housed in his own burning green gaze, and he took a sharp breath in, air catching in his throat. His shoulders relaxed and he let out the most delicious guttural moan, stepping in close to pin her back against the wall, hands everywhere and mouth unyielding in its assault as it slid against hers, the heavy press of his body against her chest and hips leaving no question as to the extent of his hunger.

Barbara gave a needy whine that would have left her mortified in other circumstances, her hands running a path from his shoulders to his back and down to his rear before skimming up to his shoulders, finally coming to rest as they caught the fine white strands of hair at the base of his head between her fingers. Her fingers curled through the silky strands, nails skimming lightly across his scalp, the rough scrape of them against his skin coaxing a low groan from his throat..

 “Walt,” she moaned, head rolling back as his clever mouth found a particularly tender spot along the hollow of her neck.

He paused, looking at her expectantly, green eyes luminescent in the glow of the silver moon.  

“Upstairs?” Her hand sought out his as she exhaled her question, gaze bright and searching as she sought her answer in his expression. His face flitted from arousal to amazement to disbelief and self-doubt, finally settling in on loving acceptance and anticipation. “As my lady commands,” he murmured, a distinctly yellow glow flashing in his eyes. In one sweeping movement he caught her in his arms, one hand curling under her knees and the other wrapping around her waist, hoisting her into a bridal-style carry and striding toward the stairs.

Miraculously, they made it to the second story without tripping, despite the pause in their ascent every few steps as Barbara leaned in to paint a string of kisses along Walter’s jaw and neck. At the top of the staircase she gave a particularly decisive nip, and they came to a jolting halt, his hands convulsing where they held her aloft.

Barbara gave a wicked smirk at the falter in his purposeful stride. “Second thoughts?” she murmured, knowing good and well it was anything but.

 “Hardly.” Though his words were droll his eyes were ablaze, and he had to bite back an expletive as she smiled and murmured her approval, her mouth finding the juncture of his neck and shoulder, teeth scraping lightly against his pale skin as she bit down on his pulse point. His grip tightened around her, his pace resuming at an increased tempo as he guided them down the hall to her room.

Barbara experienced a fleeting moment of guilt as they passed Jim’s bedroom, silent and cavernous with its yawning shadowy doorway, the darkness taking on an almost otherworldly pitch in its absoluteness, its occupant gone off to face a future that she could never have foreseen. But, Jim was an adult and had made his choices and was traveling a path that she could not follow. All she could do was trust in him and have faith in his fight, and so she tamped down the surge of sorrow and melancholic thoughts she felt at the fleeting reminder of her old life and lost herself in the very real feel of Walter’s embrace.

He stumbled into her bedroom and deposited her on the duvet with a grace that belied his more monstrous nature, taking care to place her exactly in the center and not jostle her as his hands slid out from underneath. Barbara fell back against the pillows with a muted laugh, scooting over to leave a gap to her left. “Come join me,” she said softly, patting the empty spot beside her and gazing up at him with an expectant grin.   

The mattress dipped as he sat alongside her. “Are you certain?” he asked again, eyes serious. Even after all that had happened upon the return of her memory, he could scarcely believe that the wonderous woman beside him could want him for himself, that she could accept both his natures and still find him someone worth loving. A very large part of himself kept expecting her to reject him, to cast him aside with the disregard and scorn he certainly deserved.  It didn’t matter that she had shown time and time again these past few days that things had changed, that she was as committed to _them_ as he was—in his mind, he was still a lying, deceitful Changeling who no more deserved the regard of Barbara Lake than he did the acceptance of her son and his friends.

A light touch on his hand made him jump, and he looked down to see her slim fingers resting on his wrist, thumb smoothing across the fine bones beneath his skin. Her other hand came to join it, trailing lines along his palm as she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’ve never been more certain of anything—or any _one_ in—in my life,” she affirmed, a small smile playing on her lips. She squeezed his hand. “Before—before all of _this…_ you were easily the best thing in my life other than my Jim. Then I learned the truth, and you can’t blame me for having such a strong reaction. In one day, I learned of trolls, my son’s designation as the “Trollhunter”, my boyfriend’s alternate role as a troll trying to _kill_ my son. Then I forgot everything about that world, and you disappeared,” she said quietly, and could not help the spasm of pain that crossed her face. Those months of not knowing the truth, but of knowing that _something_ was not right, had been torment. She would never get back the sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, consumed with worry for Jim and a combination of ferocious, burning anger and agonizing loss directed at the man she thought had abandoned her.

A spike of white-hot guilt shot through him then, the tang of regret bitter on his tongue. He tried to speak, to share his remorse but the words withered in his throat, consumed by shame and the acrid burn of those months they had lost. Sensing his distress, Barbara raised one hand to his chin, the other twining its fingers through his. “But you came _back_ ,” she marveled, her hand rising to pass across his brow, smoothing out the creases from his frown. “No one has ever done that for me.”

Overcome, Walter raised the hand in his grasp to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her palm. He could sense an unspoken distress behind her words, and felt yet another stab of sorrow shoot through him at the thought of he being the one to cause such suffering. “If I had it my way I would never have left,” he confessed. “If you’ll allow me, I never _will_ leave.” His other hand came to catch hers and he stared earnestly into her eyes, the weight of the upcoming fight resting heavily upon his shoulders. “Barbara, I cannot promise what will happen tomorrow, but— If we survive, if— _when—_ Jim succeeds, I will be here. I will be here as long as you need me, will do whatever you ask of me.” He brushed another kiss across the palm of her hand, and then another, mouth trailing a slow path toward her wrist.

Barbara shuddered, shifting to grip his arms. “Walter,” she breathed, eyes shining with a combination of unshed moisture and unchecked desire. “You are _always_ welcome by my side,” she asserted, hands slipping under his jacket to shove it down his arms and off of his torso. “Here, tomorrow, and whatever future arises after that.” The brown garment fell to the floor in a muffled swish of fabric and her lithe fingers slipped under the hem of his sweater to trail teasing lines across his taut stomach. “You have proven yourself time and time again, both with me _and_ with Jim, and—” she leaned over him, hands skimming across his twitching abdominal muscles to his lean chest, the motion drawing the sweater along with it, “if I’m going to be honest I _never_ stopped caring for you.”

She bit her lip, the uncertain motion a sharp contrast to the otherwise-dominant position she had assumed. “I—” she blinked, shaking her head, a hank of fiery hair falling free of its tie to dangle alongside her face. Her arm twitched to reach for it, but Walter beat her to the punch, reaching up with a trembling hand to tuck it behind her ear. His hand continued undirected, trailing up across her temple before burying itself in the rest of her flaming halo, combing through the fine strands to find her hair tie and free her hair from its restraints.

“Gorgeous,” he avowed, sitting up slightly to shuck both his sweater and shirt, casting them aside to join his jacket on the floor. She had often teased him about his many layers, but only now did he see the appeal of a more minimalistic approach to his attire. He propped himself back on his elbows, staring up at where she leaned over him, his gaze full of such overpowering adulation that Barbara could scarcely breathe for the force of his regard. “You are,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss, leaning up to capture her mouth in a series of interposed caresses, just the barest slide of skin against skin, “without a doubt,” and she could see the tendons in his neck straining as he angled his head toward her from his reclined position, “the loveliest, most intelligent, _radiant_ individual whose company I have ever had the good fortune to share.”

Barbara’s breath hitched in her chest at his words, a faint pink flush stealing across her features. Only from Walt had she ever heard such words spoken with such raw honesty—he meant every word that left his mouth, of that she had no doubt. Men had complimented her before—Jim’s father was neither the first nor the last, but he at least had managed to instill a lingering sense of doubt and ill-assessed self-worth that had lingered long past its time, eating away at her emotional foundation until she was left with a bulwark littered with cracks and crevices that could not be entirely corrected.

It had been years since she had felt so strongly for another, and _never_ to the extent of what she experienced with Walter. It was simultaneously terrifying and liberating, for she knew with utter certainty that she would never have such a connection with any other. A lesser individual might have turned away, tucked tail and fled to the relative comfort of the mundane, but Barbara Lake had never been one for tradition.

She let her lower body drape across his, a hot thrill of feminine pride rushing through her at the press of the rather obvious sign of his desire against her hip. “Walter,” she murmured, hands sliding up along his bare chest to curl around his shoulders and grasp his back, tracing the well-defined lines of his lateral muscles. Her touch was light but arousing, each stroke of her fingertips against his too-cool flesh sending a flaming pulse of desire racing through his body.

“Barbara,” he gasped out, swallowing heavily, returning her comment.

She smiled, a beatific expression of all the affection and desire and compassion that currently made its home within her heart. Leaning in close, her nose just brushing his, she pressed her lips to the edge of his ear, tongue darting out to flick against the lobe. “I love you,” she breathed, heart pounding in her breast, the improbably fear of rejection holding her tightly in its icy grasp despite his every action toward the contrary.

Walter went stock-still, his eyes wide and flaring gold in the shadows as he lost control. “Wh—what?” he croaked, staring up at her with a furrowed brow.

Ducking her head, she drew back slightly, quite notably overcome with the self-conscious urge to hide herself. Still, she met his eyes firmly, eyes resolute pools of blue, her grip tight around his hands. “I love you,” she repeated, and this time he heard the slight tremor in her voice, the barest catch that implied she was steeling herself for him not to reply with the same sentiment—and that simply could not do.

 With reflexes and agility borne of countless years of combat he twisted his hands to grip her wrists and reversed their positions, flipping her to rest against the bed, back to the mattress and head cushioned on the pillows, eyes wide and staring up at him as he loomed over her. “I could never have dreamed—” he choked out, trying at failing to express himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “I love you too,” he avowed, and her expression flashed to one of relief and such delicious hunger, “so very, very much.” He dipped his head down to steal a kiss from her waiting lips, a wandering nomad claiming a draught of water from an oasis long-sought.

Her hands flew to his hair, one burying itself in the thick dark strands at the back of his head, the other twining through the silky white strands at the nape of his neck. Tugging gently, she sighed into his mouth and urged him closer, pulling him tightly against her and tilting her head just so as she slipped her tongue into his mouth to trace the contours of his palate.

The vibrations from Walter’s answering low groan rippled through her in a vicious rush of arousal, aftershocks of the tremor sending waves rippling from his chest across hers and across her entire body. Barbara whimpered, the raw need boiling up from her core threatening to consume her from the inside-out. Never had she been so aroused, filled to the brim with such a heady combination of lust and love and utter devotion—this superseded simple affection, outstripped even the times she had shared with Walter in the past, before she _knew_.

He was hers, body and soul—she was well assured of that now. For her part, she returned his regard and devotion tenfold.

Walter bit down on the juncture of her neck, the slight sting of his teeth a deliciously sharp contrast to the pleasure coursing through her veins. He laved the bite with his tongue, soothing the mark, reveling in the sight of _his_ mark on _her_ neck. “You are _far_ too clothed, my love,” he growled, hands already halfway up her sides with her shirt. The garment was yanked over her head and discarded, with her bra not far behind it. “Beautiful,” he declared, sitting back on his haunches to admire her, half-bare before him as she reclined on the bed, all satin skin and red hair, a light flush spreading across her neck and chest at the depth of his scrutiny.

 Giving her no time to deny it, Walter leaned back in and dipped his head down to her chest, eyes flitting up to meet hers in silent question. At her nod, his mouth turned up in a smile and he turned the full force of his attention to sending her into sensory overload. Teeth scraped lightly across the skin of her breast, following a trail from clavicle to sternum before latching on to her nipple, tongue flicking out to tease and taste as his teeth gave a soft tug.

Barbara gave a breathy little moan, her hand fisting in his hair, body squirming beneath his hips as she sought even the barest modicum of friction to ease the ache between her thighs. It was criminally unfair for the man to be able to incite such a reaction with a single touch. Her hands jumped to his face, holding him in place as he drove her closer to the brink of insanity. “Walt,” she whined, thumbs stroking his cheeks before her hands flitted down to his shoulders, following the dip and curve of his muscles before coming to rest at his narrow hips.

Withdrawing his mouth, he leaned in to press a blistering kiss to her lips. Never one to sit docile, Barbara returned his embrace with equal fervor, her hands dipping under the waistband of his trousers to tease the elastic of his briefs. Her victorious smirk gave way to a breathy little laugh as he pulled back to drop a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, eyes gleaming with mischief and dark with arousal. He ran a hand along her side, tracing intricate patterns along her hip, her fevered flesh jumping beneath his touch even as he claimed her mouth once more.  Every sweep of his tongue sent waves of pleasure firing through her veins, his hands splaying across her stomach before dipping lower, thumb stroking briefly across her center and sending her neurons into sensory overload even through two layers of fabric.

Her head arched back to the pillow, baring her neck as her body went taut. “Not fair,” she sighed, abdomen twitching as his large hands flitted down to her pants, clever fingers undoing the buttons before working them over her hips and down her legs.

He sat back to get them clear of her feet, returning to run his hands down her calves, fingers caressing the smooth curve of muscle just beneath her skin. Smirking, Walter gave her a look so smug and scorching it should have set her ablaze. “I have never been one to play by the rules,” he admitted, arching an eyebrow. His hands slipped under her thighs to creep up to cup her rear, massaging the firm flesh there for a moment before catching the waistband of her panties, drawing them down her thighs until she finally lay before him, a modern Persephone laid bare and waiting for her Hades--dark and scarred an undeserving though he was--to claim her.

Never one to leave a lady wanting—although he could count the times on one hand he had ever, in hundreds of years, had even a quarter of the emotional investment in a dalliance as he did in this relationship—Walter gave her an absolutely _wicked_ smirk from his place at her knees, his green eyes practically black with ravenous hunger and lust. Gripping her left leg, he mouthed the inside of her knee, moving higher with each pass of his lips, until he sat at the apex of her thighs.

 Had Barbara had any misgivings about his skill as a lover they would have been immediately quelled in that moment as he set her across his shoulder and put his clever tongue to a very different use. “Oh god,” she groaned, burying her hand in his hair and hiking her leg up higher. 

“Only me, I’m afraid,” he snarked, the low rumble of his voice sending a wave of pleasurable vibrations straight to her core.

He could feel her shaking beneath his mouth and brought one palm up to her stomach to press her back against the mattress, its partner seeking out her center and sinking two fingers into her wet heat, her very obvious ecstasy triggering a well of very human, masculine pride. Sex to him had previously been only a tool, a means to an end and a manipulation of the mind through the pleasure of the body. He had barely enjoyed the sensations on his end and could never have imagined he could derive such satisfaction from the gratification of another. Here, though, with his mouth and fingers and tongue bringing Barbara to the height of pleasure, Walter could not imagine a better way to apply himself.

 Barbara shuddered, a muted wail escaping her as she convulsed around him, her head thrashing back and forth against the pillow. He coaxed her through the last of her orgasm before wiping his mouth and sliding back up her body, teeth bared in a satisfied smile. Hands carding through her hair, he smoothed the sweat-slicked strands away from her forehead, thumb tracing the dip of her lower lip before coming to rest at the hollow of her throat. “Alright?” he asked, a trace of his earlier insecurity returning as the high of the moment faded. 

She let out a winded laugh, smacking his arm lightly before rolling him underneath her, straddling his hips with her thighs and pinning him to the bed. “You do _not_ get to give me one of the best orgasms of my life and then ask if it was ‘alright’,” she lectured, poking him in the chest and grinding against him to emphasize her point. “You have too much of an ego for that to be believable.”

 He choked back a groan at the friction, the slide of her body against his arousal nearly painful as she stimulated over-sensitized nerves.

“What’s the matter, Troll Man?” she taunted, rocking her hips against his in a calculated rolling motion. “Can’t take a taste of your own medicine?”

She swallowed his answering groan, and he could feel her smile against his lips as she nipped and nibbled her way up to his ear, taking his lobe between her teeth and biting down gently, applying just enough pressure to reduce him to a series of incomprehensible groans. “Barbara _please_ ,” he begged, hands gripping her hips as he fruitlessly thrust upward, clearly restraining himself from any further movement as he waited for her cue.

The fact that he was willing to let her take charge, was allowing her to set the pace, was a heady cocktail of emotion and arousal that threatened to overwhelm her. “I love you,” she pronounced, unbuttoning his slacks and slipping them and his simple black briefs down his narrow hips and casting them to the pile on the floor. Her hand skated down to caress his overheated flesh, the only site on his body that evidently did not follow his otherwise-trollish thermoregulation.

Biting back a groan, Walter ground himself shameless into her hand, whimpering as she applied just the right amount of pleasure. “I love you too,” he bit off, baring his teeth in a feral smirk as Barbara rolled underneath him, positioning him just-so as he settled atop her.

“Protection?” she asked with an arched brow, never one to forgo practicality.

He shook his head. “We Changelings are sterile, and I have no diseases or oddities to pass on.” He hesitated. “We can wait, if you’d rather—”

Barbara cut him off with a well-timed upward thrust of her hips, taking him inside of her in a single, fluid motion. “I trust you,” she said, gripping his shoulders and nipping at his chest. “I want you,” she continued, rocking upward in a calculated motion that made them both groan. “And I love you,” she concluded, pressing her nose to his as she looked him dead in the eye. “No matter what happens tomorrow and what lies in the past, please remember that, Walter.”

“I love you too,” he professed, a wave of utter euphoria gripping him at her words. Narrowing his eyes, he set about bringing them both to the brink of distraction. He drove into her, carefully at first, movements becoming faster and less-calculated as he processed the heady slide of her slick flesh against his, the press of her bare chest against his unnaturally cool skin, the rapid thrum of her heartbeat pounding in her breast. It was like nothing he had experienced before, every moment in his history a dim, colorless memory when juxtaposed with this current embrace. Everything had been building up to this instant, every single moment of his remarkably long life an empty void until this remarkable human woman had stumbled across his path.

He could feel his orgasm building, and bit his lip, driving into Barbara with a ferocious intensity, determined to bring her to completion before he sought his own.

“Walt,” she keened, nails carving small crescents into his shoulders, heels digging into his back. She convulsed beneath him, breath coming in shallow, panting gasps, body shuddering as she found her release. His was not far behind, giving a monstrous growl as he spent himself. He caught himself on his forearms, careful not to crush her beneath him as his body went slack.

“Barbara,” he murmured, tenderly, lowering himself to the bed beside her and tucking his larger frame around her, arms snaking around her shoulders from behind to cradle her abdomen.

“Walt, that was—” Barbara attempted to muster her thoughts enough to put them to words, giving up and instead opting to simple snuggle into his side, twisting in his arms to tuck her head beneath his chin and flinging one arm around his chest. His heart beat under her hand, fluttering bird-like as he struggled to find his calm. She could feel him smile against the top of her head, his hand coming to rest against her back between her shoulder blades, idly stroking her pale skin, admiring the way her drying sweat shone in the moonlight.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, voice pitched low against her ear. For one usually so eloquent, he found himself stripped of any words and contented himself to a simple contented hum, reaching with his free hand to pull the sheets up around them.

How long they lay like that neither could say, lost in the enormity of what they had shared, basking in the afterglow and relishing the sense of security that came from being in the other’s arms, delaying the inevitable unpleasantness of addressing the reality of the day to come.

Eventually Walter shifted, rolling to his side so that he could face Barbara.

The movement jostled her and she gave a sleepy groan, eyelashes fluttering as she stirred. “Mmmm,” she exhaled, her hand seeking his beneath the covers. “What is it?” 

“I—” His voice broke and he closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts and reining in his rampant, traitorous thoughts before they could get too far. “If we succeed today, if all goes as planned, the little Changeling—NotEnrique”, he corrected with a small smirk, “—will return with all of the human familiar from the Dark Lands.” 

“Mmmhm,” she nodded, eyes flitting open as she met his serious gaze. “I know that was his mission in all of this.” She cocked a brow. “I’m sure you have a reason for mentioning this?” she prompted, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “I certainly hope you aren’t suggesting we care for all of them,” she snickered, only halfway joking. “I had a hard enough time raising _one_ child—I seriously doubt a horde of babies previously imprisoned in a dark troll world would make for an easy upbringing.”

“Oh no,” Walter was quick to wave off the suggestion, though his heart gave a traitorous jump at the implication that she was considering children of _any_ sort in relation to him. “No, if anything we will endeavor to find homes for them all, should that responsibility fall upon us.” His gaze grew dark, the light in his green eyes shuttered as his mouth drew into a grim line. “No this is…something else.” 

Barbara grew concerned, worry and apprehension gnawing at her with his change of tone. “Walt, what is it?” she coaxed, smoothing a hand across his brow. She combed back the unruly strands of hair from his forehead, a flush of satisfaction spiking through her as she recalled the actions that had mussed it in the first place.

“I am only human through the magics binding me to my familiar,” he finally said, looking at a spot behind her rather than meet her eyes. “If the little troll succeeds tomorrow, I will lose my ability to maintain this form and will revert to my troll self permanently.” He let the words hang, stagnant and heavy in the air between them, his heart already bracing itself for the rejection he was sure would follow.  She loved him, yes, had seen him in both forms and was unaffected by the inhuman aspects of his troll self—but she had seldom spent much time with him in that form, had never shown an inclination to hold him or— _dare he think it_ —kiss him while he walked in his true skin, and he hardly expected her to stick around once the human face was gone.

 Blinking, Barbara let out a relieved laugh. “Oh, is that all that was bothering you?” She waved off his concerns with a flippant flick of her hand, a bright smile spreading across her lips. “I’ve known that since I first made Jim tell me everything about Changelings.” She tapped his nose. “You had me worried—I was afraid you had changed your mind about us and decided it wasn’t worth sticking around for a single human.” She laughed, trying to make light of her insecurities, but Walter was staggered.

“You—what?” he gasped, eyes wide. “Barbara, I would never— _will never—_ leave you. Ever. I made a promise, and, quite honestly, I do not believe I could live without _you_ in my life, either.” He sat up against the headboard and drew her into his arms, cradling her tightly against him. “We Changelings are of selfish nature,” he disclosed, stroking a gentle hand through her bright mane of hair, combing out some of the snarls he had left in their earlier passion. “To leave you would destroy me, and I would live forever in constant fear that you were in trouble.” His arms tightened around her shoulders, not daring to allow himself to hope. “You truly do not care that I will be a troll?”

She snickered, the laugh turning in a yawn mid-way through as the lateness of the hour caught up with her. “Walt, you already _are_ a troll, regardless of what form you wear. Your skin may change, and some physical preferences, but  _you_ ,” and she tapped his chest just over his heart, feeling it beat within his ribs, “you remain the same.” Her eyes were bright as she gazed earnestly up at his face. “I fell in love with Walter Strickler—or Stricklander, whatever it is you like to call yourself—and everything that entails, _not_ just your human form.” She blushed, a deep flush starting in her cheeks and spreading becomingly across her neck and shoulders. “And, I happened to quite _like_ your troll body, as well.”

Walter gave a noncommittal hum, the rapid beat of his heart beneath her hand betraying his true response to her words. “You do?” he posed, eyes widening and inadvertently flashing yellow.

Barbara nodded her response, smoothing a hand across his cheek. “I do, and don’t you fish for too many compliments, mister. We've talked about your ego. You are beautiful to me whether human or troll.” Her head cocked to the side, a look of wicked delight stealing across her features. “Besides, I made Blinky give me as many books on trolls and their physiology as he could find the other day, since I expect I’ll be dealing with quite a few non-human patients in the morning.” Her hand slid down his chest and along his side, trailing a series of soft caresses increasingly lower, his skin jumping beneath her teasing touch. “It would seem, from what I can determine, that Changelings, even in their troll forms, remain… _compatible_ with humans.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting her to jump straight into  _that_ aspect of their conversation. "Ah, well," he coughed, trying not to look too pleased and failing miserably. "That's certainly a bonus." 

"Mhmm," Barbara agreed, scooting down to lay against the pillows and drawing him down with her, pulling his arm around her and tucking herself neatly into his side. "So stay alive tomorrow," she ordered, eyes fierce despite the exhaustion that tinted them a dark marine, her hand squeezing his in a vice-like grip. She could not bear to lose him again, especially now. She would rather see herself fall than lose either one of her men.

Walter's head bent in silent acquiescence and he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I shall endeavor to do my best to come back to you in one piece," he promised, eyes glowing amber as he gave way to his exhaustion and lost part of his grip on his human form. They settled into slumber, wrapped around each other in a tender embrace, too tired from the last few weeks to stave off sleep any longer, the good Doctor Lake in the arms of the troll who loved her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well....this quickly turned into a monster of a one shot. The scene where Barbara and Walt are watching Jim out in the backyard getting ready to train is one really struck me with a lot of potential "off-screen" moments, so I took it and ran with it. 
> 
> I know I'm not the only one ecstatic this ship got so much love in the final season...so much new fodder to draw from now!! Haha. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and please comment or leave kudos if you feel so inclined. Always fun to meet others in the fandom!


End file.
